Change of Fate
by Pen of Silver
Summary: "He killed himself that day. He killed his first love, his father, and his morals, to save the lives of everyone on that island. So then I ask you once more, will you allow Emiya Kiritsugu, heir to the Emiya Clan, to become a executor?" One choice, one change, a different future, a different war. Fate Zero AU.
1. Prologue

**In Fire, In Lead, In God We Trust.**

* * *

"_Kill me!"_

"_What?!"_

"_Hurry!"_

_Clink. Metal dropped to the ground._

_..._

**_There are two ships lost at sea. One ship has 200 people on it, another ship has 150. Suddenly both ships malfunction. You have the tools and time to save one ship. The ship with the 150 people attempts to force you to fix their ship. What would Emiya Kiritsugu do?_**

* * *

"Doctor! Doctor! The heart beats going crazy!" A green clad nurse yelled as she desperately tried to restrain the thrashing pair of limbs on the table. Her left hand scrabbled at the side for a pair of Velcro restraints.

"Hurry! Restrain him quick, we don't' need any extra complications on our hands!" A old, graying, old man snapped. He was thin as a rake, but at the moment, he was a veritable chainsaw, barking orders all the while as he quickly prepped a pair of needles with a speed born of practice.

"I'm trying! The brat just won't stay still!" She cried out panicky. Another nurse zoomed over, a horde of green scrub clad figures all scrabbling and amassing around the body of an orange shirt clad body.

"And for God's sake! Get that thing out of his hands!" The doctor snapped as he set the pair of injections on a steel tray, along with tweezers, and a scalpel. He bustled over with the swiftness born of experience.

"We can't! Dead man's grip!" The nurse exclaimed, to busy for the medical jargon as she quickly wrapped her latex glove clad hands over the boys neck, quickly baring the carteriod artery.

The Doctor grimaced, as he eyed the full loaded and functional Spring Field handgun in the boy's hand. Dead Man's grip, it was known in medical circles as _Rigor Mortis,_it was also one of the tell-tale signs of a dead body. In no other instance, could the body seize up and stiffen to such a degree. So some how... the body had managed to con the mind into thinking it was dead. Except clearly... it wasn't. This was going to be a pain. At the very least, the gun hadn't gone off yet.

...

_**"Did you really see so little talent in me?"**_

_**"No quite the opposite, I saw too much talent. It takes most assassin's years before they can separate their emotions from their trigger fingers."**_

"Doctor Salvatore! Hurry, the heart rate is dropping!" The first nurse cried, already steadying the boys legs and arms to ensure he had a clear shot at the boy's chest, which thus far had been too turbulent to even consider operating.

He quickly sliced open the front of the boys shirt with the scalpel. The tool scrapped a narrow gash over the boys left pectoral, but what was a cut, compared to blockage that was somehow slowly preventing the blood to pump oxygen to the brain? It was no wonder why the boy's brain though it was dead. Though, he grimaced as he placed a hand on the boy's chest, if the wound was in a tricky area, he had no wish to cut through tensed up muscle.

He quickly gripped the tweezers and lifted the boy's chin, identifying the "wound" if it could be called that. It was like someone had shot a crossbow at the boy. A fang of some sort was lodged almost 2 inches into the boy's neck, just above the collarbone.

He immediately set to work, opening up the wound a little to allow easier exit of the fang, which after an experimental tug, almost seemed to have small barbs on the edge of it. Then with the tweezers firmly gripped the fang he wiped his brow for a moment.

"Ready?" He asked, looking around at his team.

"Ready." They affirmed, two on standby with clean cloth bandages, one with disinfectant, and another with another shot of painkiller.

The thrashing was stopping, the Doctor realized, that meant that the lack of oxygen almost had him.

"3….2…..1….. Go!" he snapped, as he quickly pulled up with all his force. A sickening squelching sound came from the wound. He kept on pulling, ignoring the globules of blood that dripped down the side of the boys neck. With a final heave of effort he tore up the fang. The before mentioned fountain of blood immediately started spilling from the boys neck.

The intrusion popped out, and the nurses quickly assumed their roles, stemming the flow of blood first, disinfecting the wound, bandaging, and applying pain killers as as he was about to inject a final dose of painkiller to put the lad to sleep, the door slipped open and a soft sonorous voice said simply. "May I have a talk with him before you put him under?"

**Words. Words that weren't his own flooded his mind. **

_**"For that we have to thank the Glorious hero, who in every era has blinded the masses with tales of his heroic deeds. The actions of those people and their refusal to admit that blood shed is in itself evil, means that humanity has stayed on the same spot ever since the stone age!"**_

The room Immediately grew silent as they observed the golden glimmering cross that sat on the front of his robes. Even in medical circles, priests were still highly respected. After all the one realm that scientists couldn't experiment on was death, he thought soberly as he inclined his head slightly in respect. None the less, he couldn't allow him to danger the life he had just spent the last thirty minutes saving.

"He's not in any condition to…" The doctor protested.

"On the contrary, he is." The man said quickly cutting him off as he swept into the room, black frock rippling around him like a second skin as he bent over and examined the boy. In the black get up, he looked oddly out of place in the sea of white and teal scrubs, just like, the doctor thought grimly, a messenger of death.

**A image of a man clad in black throbbed in his mind. His back turned and a air of resigned determination emanated around him. **

_**"In the end killing is a necessary evil. If so, it is best to end them in the maximum efficiency and the least cost, least time. If you wish to slander that as foul and demean that as nasty, then do as you wish. Justice cannot save this world. I have no interest in things such as that..." **_

The doctor blinked, the boy's eyes had fluttered open, and the darkest pair of black eyes stared back. They were painfully empty the doctor noticed. He had seen similar eyes before, on those who had escaped from massacre and murder scenes. _Just what did this boy go through?_He thought to himself as he watched those obsidian orbs blink.

"Father…." The boy rasped softly. It was a voice stained by smoke, and rasped with loss. It was like hearing sand paper.

"Hush child, everything will be alright…" The man soothed, as he placed a cool palm on the boy's forehead.

"Dead?" It was voiced as a question, though the empty tone and utter hope in the voice made the doctor cringe. "Are they dead?!" He demanded with the force he could muster, as he began to struggle to a sitting position. The doctor rolled his eyes, young uns and their apparent belief in the invulnerability of their bodies, once the boy smoked a joint or two, well that'd quickly go away... The doctor moved and quickly pressed the boys chest down.

The father blinked for a moment, interpreting the information before stating simply, "No, the only casualties were your father…. And Shirley." He said, saying the last segment with no little hesitation.

"Father... I'd appreciate it if..." The doctor began.

"Good... I'm glad" The boy rasped. A dull clunking sound echoed around the as the boys fingers finally relaxed from their iron grip, allowing the gun to fall.

**His mind burned. **

_**"To save someone, you must sacrifice another. Such is the order of things."**_

**To save you must sacrifice. Was that the order of things? Then why? Why did his heart feel as if it was torn in two? He had done that hadn't he? Killed her. To save everyone. Guilt. It tore at him.**

"Get this boy hooked up to a heart monitor, I want someone with him 24/7. Go." The doctor snapped dispelling his momentary shock, the silence sending him out of his stupor and into action.

"Wait." A nurse said, looking at the boy with curious eyes, "Boy, first, what is your name? I need it for the patient records."

"His name is Kiritsugu. Emiya Kiritsugu." Father Maxim said simply, as he watched the boy begin to drift off to sleep. "13 years old, no occupation, and you may list me as the guardian."

"So will you be taking him then? Father?" The doctor asked. The doctor slipped a cigarette from his pocket and fumbled around for a lighter. It was a bad habit he needed to break, but as he took a short drag, and felt the day's stress ebb away, he really could care less at the moment.

"I suppose I will, although he won't be going back home. Home is no longer safe for him." The father said as he shifted his gaze to the intense doctor's.

"Then where will he go?" The doctor asked worriedly as he looked down at his patient, another cloud of noxious fumes spiraling from the stick in his mouth.

"There is a place, in Italy. The faith will take him in." The priest said, hand in the depths of his crock. "Thank you, Doctor for saving him." He said, bowing slightly.

"There are no thanks to save a life," The doctor said shortly, but not unkindly. "Now let's leave the boy to rest." He made way to the reception room before vanishing into the depths of the medicine cellar.

"Of course." The father murmured, already picturing the future of the boy that laid before him.

The island held too many dark memories for the lad, and Father Maxim nodded once to himself as he strode down the battered hallways of the hospital. Yes, the faith would be good for him. It would be a new surge of hope, for a boy who had killed his own father and love. Although…. Father Maxim thought wryly, young boys like Kiritsugu who possessed any inkling of magical talent were always valued, and he knew from the lad's now deceased father, that the family seal was already implanted in him.

Yes. The priest thought sadly, as he sat in the reception room to wait. The boy's life would be hard, harder than most. The father closed his eyes and bowed his head to the lord sadly, and he prayed.

Even as he prayed, he remembered the scene he had seen, a boy knelt on the ground, a knife buried into the chest of the girl that everyone knew he loved, and the corpse of his father with a bullet hole through his head, gun clenched in the boy's grip.

And a scream that knew that nothing in the world would ever be alright again.

**This time the scene was in sharp detail. The same black clad man was sitting next to a exquisite four poster bed. A woman with flowing white locks was in front of him.**

_**"Why? My love, you killed Illya!"**_

_**"Ten million human lives."**_

_**"Curse you..."**_

_**"I reject you, I reject the grail, to save the world."**_

_**A heart wrenching snap.**_

* * *

_"There are no heroes...in life, the monsters win."- George.R.R Martin _

* * *

AN: It's been far too long. Legend, is still my little pet project for those of you who are still waiting for an update. And to you, I say I'm sorry. I'm so so so so, sorry that this isn't an update. In fact I'm thinking about writing a new rayshipping fic just because I have no clue where the plot of legend is going. (And the critics telling me I suck, but that's another story).

Anyway, this is another fandom that I so happen to love. Well at least some parts of it anyway. This is a fic written as an AU of Fate Zero. The most gorgeous, thought-provoking anime I've seen in a long while. It centers on the idea of, like Fate Zero, a hero.

Anyway, I hope you guys liked it! Also, a review would be greatly appreciated!

Until Next Time.


	2. The Test

The Test

~Day One.

"Excuse me?! You want to what?!" The father burst out incredulously.

"We will test the boy according to church standards. Should he be deemed exceptional, he will be sent with a group of others for advanced training." The man droned calmly.

Father Maxim sighed and brushed back his mop of brown hair. The instant he had mentioned that Kiritsugu had a crest; the representative had pounced, spouting nonsense about testing the boy. He was still a teenager for Christ's sake! Though magical talent after all was commonly snapped up in a heartbeat by the magus association he thought grudgingly, so it made a little sense. But still!

"He's just a boy!" He protested.

The man sitting across the desk narrowed his eyes. "You have no other choice. Should you refuse this test he will be sent to the Magus Association. I've heard reports that they are curious about the recent dead apostle outbreak in the Philippines. I'm sure the boy has some interesting tales to relay…"

Father Maxim blanched. The instant they saw Kiritsugu's crest, he would be extracted of any relevant information, then killed. Emiya Noritaka, as he knew, was not the type of man to care what laws he broke to further his own research.

"Very well." Father Maxim said after a pause, resigning himself to the fact. His fingers gripped the armrests of the chair. He hated being coerced but what choice did he have?

The other man remained seated. He knotted his fingers together and set them on the walnut desk in front of him. "Inform him that he will proceed to the atrium for testing. That will be all." He said in a clipped voice.

Father Maxim sighed and stood. He had no doubt that Kiritsugu would pass. The boy was exceptional, even at a young age he had always won the children's little games, completed dares that many thought were impossible, and had been uncannily quick to catch the smallest details. Yet this wasn't the sort of test one wanted to pass.

Father Maxim nodded and walked out of the room into the awaiting reception area. He scanned the seats and said quite simply. "Kiritsugu." His heart clenched at that, he had just condemned this boy to the path of bloodshed and pain. How could he still call the boy's name so calmly, so _easily. _

The boy looked at him blankly. Obsidian black eyes empty and hollow met his own. Where there used to be a light glimmer and shine, there was nothing. They were the eyes of a person who had lost everything and found nothing to live for.

"This will very likely be the last time I see you." Father Maxim continued, looking down at the boy. He knew this to be true, once the lad became part of the church he would likely be sent to some remote region to preach, or purging the world of sin as the cardinals put it whenever executors were mentioned..

Kiritsugu looked at Father Maxim and this time, a shallow light lit up those black orbs. He stumbled to his feet. A bandage still wrapped around his chest from the hospital. "Tell me father."

The voice was empty. It rasped like the boy hadn't taken a drink in a week.

"What is a hero?"

Father Maxim paused at that. He looked up at the ceiling of the cathedral they were in with a reflective expression. Was this his last chance at redemption, to give the boy some measure of hope? Some measure of peace for the future?

"You know, that's a good question Kiritsugu." Father Maxim said after a moment.

"Personally, I don't believe in heroes." He started, Kiritsugu started at that. "But if there were heroes, then they would be people who did the right thing. No matter what." He finished softly.

Kiritsugu nodded a inscrutable expression on his face. "Thank you, father." He said, bowing low in the style of the Japanese.

Father Maxim smiled benignly, "Kiritsugu, before you go, I have a gift for you." He said simply, bowing back in return.

He extended from his hand two leather bound tomes. Both looked considerably worn and dusty.

Kiritsugu accepted the books with a cursory glance. The Canterbury Tales and the Holy Bible stared back at him. He tucked the worn tomes under his arm.

"The bible I understand, but why the Canterbury Tales?" He asked.

Father Maxim gave him a piercing look, "My last lesson to you, never question gifts boy." He admonished, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately. He smiled mysteriously "Good bye Kiritsugu, may God light your path."

Kiritsugu said after a pause, "And he yours."

"Head to the atrium Kiritsugu, you don't want to be late now do you?" The Father said gently, nudging him along.

Kiritsugu nodded. "Goodbye Father Maxim." He said and he turned his back, shoulder's square and set. He took a step. And then another. Each step took him just a bit farther from his old life and like a snake shedding its skin, he stepped out of his old life and into the world.

Never once did he look back. There was nothing left for him in that old life of his after all.

Had he turned back, he would have seen Father Maxim, with his hands held in a silent prayer, a lone tear dripping down his cheek.

* * *

Kiritsugu made his way to the atrium. It wasn't hard to miss, a massive stained glass dome covered the open area and exquisite carvings and statues dotted the walls. It was an opulence he had little opportunity to enjoy back at the island.

A stab of pain shot through his heart at the thought. How she would have loved the opportunity to visit this place. She would have delighted at the opportunity to be at a place of learning such as this.

He pushed away the lance of pain. That was his old life.

_A Hero is someone who does the right thing, no matter what._

That had been Father Maxim's definition as to what was a hero. Someone who does the right thing…. Well then what was the right thing?! It was infuriating as hell whenever he tried to pinpoint the answer that had been plaguing him ever since he was in the hospital bed.

The image of the black clad man in a suit drifted to the front of his mind. Even though he was convinced he had been hallucinating, the words still burned in his mind.

That conundrum tore at his head as he made his way to the atrium. There in the center of the massive opening of space, stood a couple hundred similarly aged teenagers. He predicted the youngest was 12 while the oldest were around 20.

At the moment the massive conglomeration of people were talking. Occasional bursts of laughter and shouts punctuated the noise as he made his way to the crowd. He took to the outskirts of the crowd and stayed there, examining the rest of the trainees.

Ethnicities? Generally European.

He caught snippets of Italian, Spanish, and French, along with the ever dominant English. The conversation topics ranged from everyday gossip such as sports and politics, to musings about what the current test was going to be.

Kiritsugu sighed and closed his eyes.

"What is a Hero?" He muttered unconsciously. The words came to his lips without thought.

"A Hero is someone that works for his own idea of Justice. Who seeks to right every wrong that he comes across. Does that answer your question?"

Kiritsugu looked up.

Pale lavender, almost silver, shoulder length hair swung in his face, and bangs covered her eyes. She was dressed roughly in a black coat and a white tank top underneath. If he encountered this woman on the streets, he would have labeled her as a thief or a cutpurse. The way she held herself however, that air of confidence and lethality said something more than just a common thief.

The woman caught his glance and gave a short chuckle.

"Good eyes, appraising me before I have a chance to introduce myself. My name is Natalia." She said extending a single glove covered hand, "I'm one of your examiners for this little test the higher ups have set up."

Kiritsugu took the hand cautiously.

"Emiya…"

"Kiritsugu. I know." The woman said curtly. "Max asked me to look after you."

Kiritsugu blinked at that. "Father Maxim?"

"The one and the same. That man had the nerve to call me up right before leaving for the Bahamas." Natalia said smoothly, languishing back on a ornate marble column. "Damn church…. Loves taking its time on things doesn't it?" She asked rhetorically, taking a drag on a cigarette from her hands.

"I suppose." Kiritsugu replied quietly staring straight ahead.

"What's with that attitude?" Natalia said with a smirk, "Never been laid or something?"

Kiritsugu gave her the flattest stare he could conjure up at the moment. "I'm 14" he said.

Natalia chuckled. "Old enough to kill, old enough to fuck I'd say." She said easily.

Kiritsugu looked straight ahead. "What makes you think I've killed?"

Natalia smirked, "The same way you thought I was someone untrustworthy."

Kiritsugu acknowledged the point. They sat in an awkward silence for a while.

Natalia sighed and stood up from her reclining position against the column. "Well the tests are starting soon, so catch ya later boya." She said lightly, sashaying out, the crowds parting like a school of minnows as she pushed her way through the crowd.

Kiritsugu closed his eyes again. Natalia huh? Well if the father felt like it was necessary… yet he also had to wonder how the father knew someone as apparently unrefined and blunt as Natalia.

"Attention! Your testing session will begin in one hour. I suggest you get ready." A black robed priest announced from a balcony overlooking the floor of the atrium.

The crowd burst into excited murmurs. Kiritsugu leaned back against the same marble pillar that Natalia had been leaning back against earlier. The majority of trainees conglomerated in the center into one large mass, the previous babble now even more heated with the injection of the news of the upcoming test.

He guessed it would be a routine physical and then general knowledge. At least, he had garnered that much from listening to some of the more intelligent trainee's conversations.

He took out his books after another moment of doing nothing. He pocketed the holy bible and took out the Canterbury tales with a sigh and flipped to page one. It was going to be a long wait wasn't it?

* * *

Ten minutes before the test.

A dull rumbling filled the room.

The previous unending chatter of the crowd slipped to a halt as the rumbling grew louder.

Kiritsugu pocketed his book. Around the outskirts, he saw numerous trainees fingering handles underneath their robes. He could only assume what they were covering. Kiritsugu strained himself and started to edge himself toward one of the hallways of the church, needless to say, he had a bad feeling about this. His gaze was drawn downwards. The ornate designs engraved on the churches floor seemed to almost glow…

Click.

Darkness shrouded the atrium.

At the same moment, runes cleverly embedded into the carvings on the atrium's marble floor blazed to life. About half of the trainees froze and were trapped by the immense magic circle engraved into the church floor. The other half were either lucky and had thrown themselves to the very edges of the atrium, or had done something similar to Kiritsugu.

He had instinctively pumped od through the crest on his back. The accessed knowledge flooded back, telling him the exact parameters of the seal, the active runes, and more. His latent prana _flexed _and he felt the relatively weak paralysis spell dispel as his surge of prana flowed through his circuits.

The other surviving trainees had either forced their way out of the circle through pure force and effort, or had jumped to the slightly raised Dias where a priest would have given seminars.

"Congratulations to the 153 of you remaining, you have passed the first portion of the test. Proceed to the hallways for the next portion of the test." The voice droned out from somewhere. In the pitch black darkness it was impossible to discern the source "Should you remain, the doors will be sealed. You have 5 minutes."

The sound of vanishing steps echoed through the room.

Then everyone burst into motion.

The lights flickered back on.

153 trainees massed at the entrances to the hallways. Kiritsugu immediately discarded rushing through the two main exits. They were rather narrow and in 5 minutes there was no way that he could make his way through and out.

His eyes caught a glimpse of movement.

It was a brown haired boy. He was sprinting incredibly quickly toward the back end of the room. With a hop of one of the marble columns dotting the edges of the room, he was soaring through the air. With an inhuman grace the trainee nimbly grasped the edge of the balcony where the first priest had made the announcement and vaulted over, vanishing into the exiting hallways above. Clearly he had been trained before.

Kiritsugu assessed the situation. There was at the very least 10 feet of height he'd have to cover before he could even think about touching the edge of the balcony. Some trainees were following the same method, climbing up one of the marble pillars, or attempting to imitate the first brown haired trainee and sprint and hop to the balcony. Needless to say, they failed.

Kiritsugu sighed and trickled od into the seal on his back, activating the mass of circuits. "Turns out Tou-san's gift was useful for something." He muttered as the library of spells came to mind. Fire, water, Wind, Earth, he immediately discarded those. He kept on browsing through his mental list before he reached a certain spell.

_Remember Kiritsugu, time is like a piece of string. When altering it, there are two critical components, the alteration then the application, the change then the impact, applying the principle then repairing the damage. In your case…. I think it's best to refer to it as cutting and binding the string of time. _

He reached into his prana reserves and pulled the energy to the surface, his circuits blazing to life as the Emiya crest fed him the necessary information for the spell.

"Time Alter: Double Accel!" He hissed as he began sprinting toward the column. It was a gamble, if his muscles ripped themselves to shreds before he got to the necessary height then he wouldn't be able to continue.

Cut the string. Pain flooded his body.

Apply the alteration.

Retie the string and force the concept into being.

Time blurred and a small reality marble blinked to life as that small stretch to the string of time began to manifest itself.

His muscles were on fire. His heart rate immediately doubled and his breathe ceased as his bodily functions operated at two times their normal speed. It was terrifying. Using the spell on himself was far different than using it on flowers.

He was sent flying. Before his muscles tore themselves to pieces, he righted the wrong, cutting the string of time and removing the alteration, then binding together and forcing the concept into life again.

His heart rate immediately dropped down to its normal level, and his muscles screamed in protest as he seized the edge of the banister. He attempted to pull himself up. No good, he wasn't strong enough to pull up his own body weight with one hand.

There was only one option left to him. Clattered murmurs filled the room as they witnessed his feat. How odd it must have looked, a teenager jumping, then suddenly sent flying like he was sent from an invisible catapult.

"Time Alter: Triple Accel!" he recited, activating the reality marble for barely a second, the instant his muscles began flexing. The momentum of his pull sent him tumbling over the banister. The effects of the reality marble set in. A pain so great in his right arm that it hurt to move.

He kept on stumbling forward. Why was he even trying on this test?

That thought came to mind. Then an image of a smiling Father Maxim bloomed in response.

He had an expectation to live up to. The father had brought him to the hospital to be saved. That effort would not be wasted.

Let it be known that Emiya Kiritsugu was never one to disappoint.

He kept on walking.

* * *

There had been two other tests. One had involved maneuvering pass various hidden runes as they tried to get to the exit in time.

The next had been a basic strength test. Forcing stone doors open and ramming wooden barricades to progress. That had then led to an immense series of halls, with various twists and turns strewn throughout along with passages that branched out like the spokes of a bike wheel.

He had found his way through the mazelike halls with the oldest trick in the book. The one that Shirley had mentioned once. His crest had provided a dozen more options most of which involved him expending his remaining prana supply and more. He could have returned the marble walls to their origin, and in doing so removed all the walls. He could have melted all the walls into molten magma with an aria that almost seemed like a poem. Another suggested changing the properties of stone until it became liquid. The down side was it probably would have killed him a hundred times over.

"_Whenever you're in a maze, turn right and you'll make it to the end. Eventually…" Shirley smirked teasingly._

The memory flickered to his mind.

That was his solution and even though he was the last to enter the room. It worked. The door behind him sealed shut with the buzz of an electronically armed lock.

His entrance was greeted with speculative stares and curiosity. He ignored them all and focused on not breaking down on the middle of the floor. His right hand throbbed painfully. His knees were close to buckling.

There was now only a group of at most 30 trainees. It seemed the rest hadn't made it into the halls, or hadn't found their way to this room before the doors had sealed.

Most of them looked rather ragged. The brown haired boy he had first seen sprinting up the side of the column had the left side of his sleeve torn off. Most of the others, he noted curiously sported what looked like various cuts and bruises. Clearly, fighting their way through the brunt of the crowd had not been kind.

"Congratulations. You thirty have passed the 4th test, demonstrated cunning, reflex and skill, and automatically qualify for executor training." A soft voice said. The voice belonged to a well built man with rippling arms and chest. It was a surprisingly soft voice for a man that looked more like a bodybuilder instead of a priest. He was clad in the usual black robes of the church.

"However, you have the option of taking one final test." The man continued.

The rest of the trainees listened attentively. The times of amiable chatter and gossip had ceased the instant the magic circle had blazed to life in the atrium.

"Should you pass, you will be assigned your own instructor and advanced placement and positioning as an executor."

He must have seen the resolve on some of the trainee's faces.

"Be forewarned. The test is not easy. It requires strength of mind, body, and an unshakable will to succeed." He warned calmly. "Should you insist on proceeding, exit through the doorway behind me. Your final test lies through that doorway."

All of the trainees wordlessly exited the room.

As the last one trickled through the door. The heavily built man sighed. "Kids. They never learn, right Natalia?"

The silvery haired woman stepped out of the shadows in the corner of the room. Her eyes were narrowed intently before her face relaxed and a jaunty grin appeared on her face.

"How many?"

The man shrugged absently as he leaned against the doorway.

"There are only 5 people. At most 5 will pass."

"You don't think the church is being a little harsh with this test of theirs?"

"Not at all."

Natalia sighed. "I don't envy them. My first was done in an alley way in London. I was scared for weeks after that. When you actually know what you're doing… that's a whole new ballpark." She said.

The heavily built man, named Ned shrugged again. It was a habit of his.

"We'll see. We'll see." He murmured.

* * *

Kiritsugu entered the room with the rest of the trainees. He was expecting another physical or mental challenge or even an actual opponent to fight.

Instead, in the center of the simple black room were 5 chairs. In those five chairs were five people gagged with arms tied behind their backs sitting in the chairs. In front of each was one thin rapier like sword stuck into the ground.

A blue hilt, a white hilt, a brown hilt, and then a burgundy red, then finally a jet black hilt. Each of the blades were black and narrow, the edges razor sharp.

Silence.

The implications of the test seemed too had reached the majority of the trainees by now. Thump. Thump. Kiritsugu's heart beat thudded in his chest.

Then the first, a heavy set trainee with dark blond hair walked out of the room.

Others followed. Over the span of 30 minutes trainees slowly trickled out. Some had picked up the swords and then instantly set them down and left. Other just vomited after inhaling the dense scent of fear and dismay and left.

Killing after all, in cold blood took a special type of person to accomplish.

After the tenth person, Kiritsugu didn't pay attention to the trainees.

He was empty. That was his life as of now. He had lost everything that had ever mattered to him. He had killed his father, his first love, all for the sake of the island. His own hands had shed the blood of those he had loved for the greater good. It had sickened him.

**To save someone, you have to sacrifice someone.** The image of a man clad in black burned in his mind. Memories of lying in the hospital bed came back. **If you demean things as nasty or repulsive then do as you wish. Justice cannot save this world… I have no use for things such as that.**

One line blazed in his mind above all else.

**In the end, Killing is a necessary evil.**

The words wrapped around his mind. There would always be conflict in the world. There would always be death and pain so long as humanity existed.

He looked at the man before him.

Yet was he, to decide whether this man lives or dies? Would he assume the mantle of God, deciding who deserved punishment and reward?

Shirley came to mind once more.

"_Nee, Kerry, what do you want to be when you grow up?"_

_A beautiful smile accompanied the moon that hung in the sky like a chandelier._

His finger closed around a hilt.

**In the end, Killing is a necessary evil.**

**Necessary evil.**

**Necessary evil. **

**Necessary.**

A hero is someone who does the right thing, no matter what.

A hero is someone that works for his own idea of Justice. Who seeks to right any and every wrong they come across.

Such idealistic, simple answers.

He took a deep breath.

The look in the man's eyes was that of fear. Of resignation. Yet one emotion shone out above all the rest. It was pity. It was a life time's worth of sorrow contained into one gaze. Pity for him.

He paused for a moment.

**Killing is a necessary evil.**

All the parting words he often heard repeated came to mind.

"Rest in peace." A twisted smile. "When you see a man called Noritaka Emiya. Tell him I'm sorry."

The man's blue eyes glimmered.

The black blade descended.

* * *

"Congratulations, Emiya Kiritsugu." Ned said finally as he looked at the youth in front of him. "You along with 4 others have passed. The church gives its thanks for your service, your talent, and your service."

An empty nod.

"That black key is yours now. Guard it safely."

He made his way past the other trainees, ignoring their hushed murmurs and joined the other 4 that had passed the test. They gave him a blank stare and looked blankly out the window.

"Hey boya."

Kiritsugu stopped.

A moment of silence.

"You did well for your first." The silver haired woman said finally.

He gave her a twisted, melancholy, smile. "That wasn't my first." Images of a girl clad in white came to mind, a knife with a handle like a cross, sunlit beaches, and the joys of childhood love.

Images of his father, the crest that he had been given, the lessons he had learned, the pleasure at achieving the assigned task to perfection.

His fingers closed tightly around the black sword hilt in his hands.

And he stepped into the room and took a seat next to the same brown haired boy that had sprinted up the column. The burgundy red hilt was in his hands.

That pitying look the man had sent him flashed through Kiritsugu's mind. A tear dripped from the corner of his eyes.

He was an executor now. One who was destined to wander the path of bloodlust and hate on the whim of the church.

His old life was no more. He had seen to that with his own bloodstained hands.

_Someday, these hands will forge a world of peace. I swear it._

* * *

**AN: So how'd you like it? Its basically executor Kiritsugu, except for one major difference. In this, Kiritsugu isn't driven by his experience with Shirley, where in the anime he failed to kill her, and doomed the island. This Kiritsugu is lost and empty.**

**That last line, while it may seem similar to Kiritsugu's canon dream, its different because his peace isn't built off of costs and benefits, it's simply a honest hope that no one in the world will have to do what he had to do.**

**Ohh, the brown haired trainee is Kirei. Thought you guys should know that he just wasn't some random OOC.**

**Later.**

**REVIEW! I need to know what I can do better and improve on.**


	3. Executions

**Executions**

* * *

It had been the small bouquet of roses that had caught his attention. They were pure white in color and their thorns stood out in harsh contrast from the pale green stems. The tall man reached down and plucked the bouquet of roses from his door step.

A slip of paper tumbled down from the delicate blue wrapping paper as he lifted the flowers. He bent down, careful not to drop his unexpected gift and picked up the card. He smiled softly as he unfolded it. It was a present from his favorite niece. The chicken scratch like writing made him smile in amusement; she really was still a child.

Jean Dion an eminent politician in his late thirties and the late son of the French President Daniel Dion, tucked the bouquet of flowers under his arm and made his way into the room.

"Mon Cherie, I'm home!" He said, slipping of his black dress shoes and moving to kiss his wife.

Anne-Laure Dion, smiled at her husband's usual greeting and moved back to the kitchen with a gentle grace that belied her age. "Hello dear, how was work?" she asked softly, tugging of her husband's suit jacket and dropping it off into the laundry room.

"The usual. Another bighead who cares nothing for the people and only for his checkbook." He growled, the day's frustrations sweeping over him. His sighed and collapsed into an armchair in the living room, the motion causing the bouquet of white roses under his arms to bob up and down.

His wife noticed the innocent bouquet, giving her husband a kind smile. "Danielle will be pleased. She specially picked out those roses for you."

Jean smiled back, "I'm more impressed she managed to pick out something so beautiful. These couldn't have been cheap."

Anne-Laure returned back to the kitchen, preparing a simple stew for their afternoon meal. "Oh, she didn't do it all by herself. A kind young man helped her out. He was the perfect gentlemen to her." She gushed, remembering the incident fondly.

Jean nodded, "It's good to see that at least some people still have kindness in them." He said, looking deeply into the crackling fireplace. In the heart of winter, the flames were more than welcome in his home.

Anne-Laure ladled out the stew, "Now now dear… all people aren't like politicians you know." She chided, depositing the bowl in front of her husband.

"I know…" Jean responded, kissing his wife on the cheek gently. "Even with all this political turmoil, I'm glad we can still eat like this in peace."

"As am I Jean." Anne-Laure responded, sitting down next to her husband. Then she smiled and rapped his hand lightly with her ladle, "Now eat up before the food gets cold."

The Dion family ate their last supper in peace, punctuated by gentle bursts of conversation and loving glances.

* * *

~Four Hours Earlier~

"And there you go, Ojou-san. One bouquet of white roses that I'm sure your uncle will enjoy." Kiritsugu said fondly, handing the beaming blond girl the bouquet of roses.

"Thank you sir!" The girl cried happily, taking the roses eagerly. "Thank you so much!"

"It's my pleasure Ojou-san." Kiritsugu said, watching the little blond girl run off to her caretaker, a beautiful blond woman with blue eyes. The girl was eagerly blabbering away as she pointed to him excitedly.

So young. So hopelessly pure.

Emiya Kiritsugu smiled sadly at her naivety. Life wasn't so kind, wasn't like the fairy tales that the story books painted it. There was no knight in shining armor, there was no damsel in distress. He had been harshly reminded of that his first day as an executor.

"_What is an Executor you ask? An executor is someone that kills to eliminate sin and blasphemy from the world. That's it. Throw away those delusions of grandeur, those dreams of power and prestige. The life of an executor is fraught with blood, accept that." Ned growled. _

That was their first lesson. Don't be a naïve man and get yourself killed. The next few lessons were equally harsh. Never let a target escape. Kill silently and kill in one strike. Pity is for the weak. Oh, and his favorite, remove all evidence that you were ever there.

He was shaken out of his solemn stupor when he saw movement from the corner of his eye.

Her caretaker smiled at him kindly before chiding the child lightly, for pointing he assumed. He returned the smile with a nod and turned her back and made his way back to a clearly disgruntled group of three other people, save for one Kotomine Kirei of course.

Kotomine Kirei, one of the five who had killed in cold blood at the ripe age of 14, was perhaps Emiya Kiritsugu's one constant companion throughout his executor training. They both excelled at all assignments the church sent them on and through their shared bloodshed they had come to realize that if there was anyone they could count on to be there, it would be the other. It wasn't that they were friends. No, friends was not a word associated with Kotomine Kirei, they were more comrades, bound together by a common burden.

As he approached the group of black clad young men, he was greeted with the words, "Were wasting time, Kiritsugu, leave your kindness behind the next time we're on a mission." A black haired young man growled seriously, though his eyes burned gently, while he chided his fellow trainee.

Kiritsugu shrugged in response. "My apologies Raven." He replied, receiving a friendly clap on the shoulder in response.

Raven was a slight young man in build, with narrow shoulders, and gangly arms and legs. He was the lowest ranked of the entire group, most likely due to his inherent playful nature and tendency to goof of when things got serious. He was of Spanish descent; the barely audible accent that slurred his speech was proof of it.

"I'm joking Kiri… gosh." Raven said.

Their other team mate, a tall blond haired figure with a stocky body and rippling muscles laughed as he ribbed Kiritsugu gently, "Kiritsugu, being a gentlemen. Though she is a little young for your tastes, no?"

Kiritsugu shot him a death glare.

The blond cringed, "Alright, Alright…." He said, waving his hands lightly. "Don't look at poor little me like that." His name was Grace, a name at odds with his usual playful and rough demeanor.

Grace was Russian and despite his roots, had no such accent that distinguished him from the French that milled around them. Hot blooded and rowdy, he was skilled but lacked the subtle nuances that their line of work often required. Kiritsugu had always thought that Grace would have been more at home with a sword and shield in his hand, like the knights of old.

Kiritsugu rolled his eyes and the group began to make their way toward the exit of the shopping mall. They had come here to scout out the locals and gather information. It was his usual luck that he had seen a puzzled little girl looking over a flower vendor's cart.

They walked in silence for a while, Grace, contemplating the newest line of sweets and cakes that the French seemed to enjoy creating, while Raven wandered around with a bored expression on his face. Behind him, Kirei was walking with his face impassive like usual.

Kiritsugu turned around.

"What?" He asked. He had felt Kirei's eyes burning holes through his black frock for quite a while now. In the background, Grace meandered off to purchase some sweets.

Kotomine Kirei stared at him, his brown eyes glinting seriously in the harsh shopping mall light.

"Why did you help her?" Kirei asked curiously, like he couldn't comprehend the very idea. His tone was a little like a lost child, asking about the workings of the world. Such questions were commonplace when dealing with the silent executor.

Kiritsugu paused at that. "Because I could." He said finally, not quite being able to voice the exact feeling of obligation he had felt the instant he had seen that child looking around with a plea of silent help.

Kirei digested the answer, his usually blank face slightly troubled. On anyone else it would have been akin to screaming in confusion. Rarely did one crack the impassive mask that was Kotomine Kirei.

They proceeded in silence.

"Raven."

"What Kiri?" Raven asked as the group began to slip into the plain looking white Toyota Corolla that the church had prepared for them.

"…About the mission." He said warily, breaching the topic with some caution.

Raven snorted and airily waved his hand, "We have two of the church's top five trainee's with us, this execution is going to go off without a hitch." He said nonchalantly, spinning the keys on his ring finger as he slipped into the driver's seat.

"Shotgun!" Grace called, sliding into the shotgun seat which left Kirei and Kiritsugu in the back.

Kiritsugu sighed as he took the back seat, even though it was just a routine execution, one he had preformed countless of times over the last three years, he still always had a knot of tension in his stomach each time he stepped across the doormat of the man he would kill.

Looking across from him, Kirei was his usual composed self, the moment of unease apparently dispelled, his burgundy red black keys spinning in his hands as he watched the scenery of Paris France dwindle away.

* * *

"_Because I could." _Those words rang through Kotomine Kirei's head. He had long heard such idealistic words from people who had never tasted the bitter side of the world. Even they the church, who had existed for over a millennia, they who were upheld as the most pure and holy people could not say such words so easily.

Emiya Kiritsugu. Since day one of their training, when he had seen the ragged teenager drag himself into a room of 5 innocent people, and silence one of them forever, he had sensed a kindred spirit in the dark haired individual.

He had felt loss emanating from the man. He was no stranger to pain, but the maelstrom of confusion and incomprehension had struck a chord with him. Finally there was one who could comprehend his path! His feelings! Finally could he perhaps find an answer to his questions, why did he relish at the sight of blood? Why did he fantasize about the utter expression of torment that crossed his victim's face as their lifeblood dripped down his black keys? Why did he, after following every doctrine of the church to the letter, still not find peace and happiness?

He now had to tack another question onto his mounting list. Why did Emiya Kiritsugu feel the obligation to help those in need?

They had stopped for supper, his brain duly noted. He mechanically stepped out of the car and into the restaurant that apparently they had decided on. He barely registered the flowing floral script of the name of the restaurant before they were quickly ushered to a table, no doubt their officious uniforms and demeanor streamlining the process.

Kirei Kotomine drew from his prerecorded list of answers that he made when coming to restaurants when the waitress began the usual process of taking orders. The food tasted like ash to him anyway, no matter how exquisite the cuisine.

What would you like to drink? Water. Appetizer? No thank you. Main Dish? Whatever your favorite dish is. Dessert? I don't like sweet things, thank you.

The others gave their orders and the waitress left. Kirei sighed tiredly as he looked blankly at a stain on the immaculate white table cloth. The worst part about it was he felt nothing. When he murdered he felt nothing but perverse joy, a joy that he knew was fundamentally wrong. When he didn't spill blood, he was empty.

That thought alone repulsed him. Could he never be happy unless he walked the path of bloodshed?

He noted the slow conversation that Raven was starting with Grace, an attempt to include him was extended, but he waved it off with his usual nonchalance. Kiritsugu sighed and accepted, albeit responding with curt one sentence responses to the other's prying questions. They spent a while like that. Raven sending probing questions at Kiritsugu, about his background and family, which were easily deflected. Grace would send some snarky comment, and Kiritsugu would shut him down with his trade mark stare.

The clinking of a plate being set in front of him barely registered. He sighed and after a moment, began spooning some of the food into his mouth.

His lips closed around the offending spoon, and he slowly chewed away at whatever it was that he had been served.

His spoon dropped to the table with a clink.

It was so intolerably hot, so spicy it would have set any other human being running for the nearest source of water.

He shuddered as the flame swept over his tongue and into the neurosensors in his brain that he had long thought, could not feel anything at all. His previous morbid thoughts were swept away by the wave of unrelenting spiciness. It was… intoxicating. Painful but intoxicating. He looked up at the waitress, who was looking at him expectantly.

"My compliments to the chef." He said after a pause as he began delicately taking another bite of the food. He could barely restrain the tears coming to his eyes.

He was rewarded with a glowing smile and a bow, before the waitress dropped off the rest of the dishes and left the table.

All restraint flew out the window the instant the waitress rounded the corner. Ignoring his tablemate's incredulous stares, Kotomine Kirei devoured the food, and for the first time in a long while, he was content. That searing sensation… it was perfect.

He breathed out lightly. To those that knew him, it was akin to a smile.

For the first time, he felt that he was human.

* * *

The earlier feeling of camaraderie and warmth vanished the instant the sun began to slip beneath the horizon.

To the enforcers it was profit time. To the executors it was the time to carry out their duty, the time to purge sin from the earth. To some it was an honor, to Kiritsugu- it was murder. While the others strode in to their positions with assurance and confidence, he was wary and liquid.

In concept, it was the very idea that he had once believed was true. Kill the root of sin, to prevent further sin from spreading. Yet each time he drove a black key into a target's chest, he was reminded of Shirley, of his father, of the man he had killed in cold blood.

Who was he to decide who was good and who was evil? For that matter who was the church to decide that? He knew corruption was in the church, every scandal, every corrupt priest prying for prayer money, was sign of that.

Then who decided good and evil? Who decided who lived or died? That was his unending question. The question that he knew he could search decades to answer and still come up with nothing of substance.

He sighed and from the three handles he held in his fingers, he materialized three black keys. It was time to go to work. Even though he could find no answer, he would carry on this path because it was the only one he knew, the closest thing to justice that he could understand.

They had come up with the plan yesterday after scouting out the building where their target lived. It was in the older section of Paris, and the situation of the building meant that the usual slash and burn strategy wouldn't work. This required a little more finesse.

Raven, while no master had an uncanny talent for mixing poisons. The one that he had procured for this mission carried the extract of Asian poppies, which opium was once refined from, intensified with a synthetic poison that would eat the cells from the point of entry.

The poppy extract would knock the target out, and the poison would consume the body within an hour, leaving no evidence and no mess.

The same poison was slathered over 9 of each of their black keys. Grace would be responsible with watching the entrance and dispatching the outside guards, while he and Kirei would scan the building for the target. Then, in true crusader style, the building would be burned to the ground. The church had a flair for the dramatic.

They moved.

Raven and Grace went first, sinking black keys into the spinal cords of the two guards watching the apartment complex's front door. Immediately afterwards Kirei and Kiritsugu darted from their perch from the opposite building. Kiritsugu took the fallen guard's keycard, and swiped it on the corresponding scanner.

The door slid open with a pleasant chime.

"What the-?"

A black key cut off the doorman's exclamation. Before his body slumped to the ground, they were already gone.

Both of them slipped soundlessly into the stair well and made their way to the 10th floor. An elevator was too obvious, and as any assassin knows, locking oneself inside a steel box with only one exit, was akin to a death sentence.

The executors easily cut open the locked door to the floor with a few strokes of a black key, and without further adieu, moved to their target destination. The door, like all good apartment doors was locked with a sophisticated lock that required a keycard and a pin code. Normally, the solid steel door would have taken a blow torch or several noisy strokes of a black key to cut through.

To Kiritsugu however, unless said door was built to with stand a thousand years of wear and tear without crumpling, he, with a little finesse, could undoubtedly break in.

Kiritsugu's method involved accelerating the time of the lock until it crumbled into dust. This required a considerable amount of prana and considerably more skill than blow torching their way through, but was also completely silent.

Kiritsugu placed his palm on the lock at the side of the door. The cold steel slowly began to warm under his palm as he accessed the spell from the crest on his back.

"Time Alter: Decay." He whispered.

His mentor Natalia, had helped him in this portion of his training, having him continuously decay objects until they became dust, along with other numerous different ways to utilize his unique brand of time manipulation magic. She was downright sadistic when it came to training.

The lock began to crumble. The drain on his prana reserves were considerable, time alteration was not something that many Magus touched upon lightly and for good reason.

Kirei smirked, "The saying, how the cookie crumbles seems apt here."

Kiritsugu gave his partner in crime a glare. Kirei was in an oddly good mood tonight.

Kiritsugu shoved the door open. He expected no creaks, after all this was a high class apartment complex that undoubtedly oiled its hinges. What he didn't expect, were the chimes that he disturbed while opening the door. The light tinkling sound rang through the room.

Both of them froze, still as statues.

_Clumsy. _He berated himself as he heard shuffling in one of the adjoining rooms. Kirei motioned lightly toward the large sofa in the back of the living room. He nodded.

Both of them launched themselves swiftly and silently behind the couch. Kirei nimbly vaulted over the edge of the couch the grace of an athlete. Kiritsugu had none of that, ghosting silently around the edge of couch without a sound. The carpet under their feet creaked ever so slightly as they both crouched behind the couch.

He spotted a figure against the doorway, who quietly muttered something in French, before stumbling back to the bed room. Had he bothered to glance down at the disintegrated lock to the apartment, he would have been a tad more instant the bedroom door slammed shut, Kirei made his way into the other bed rooms in the apartment suite.

Kiritsugu was left with the task of breaking into the bedroom, killing both the French politician and his wife, and quickly making a retreat while Kirei looked through the man's documents for the information the church wanted. What information, he didn't know specifically, most likely contact lists and numbers that the church would use in an attempt to purge the French Government of corrupt officials.

Kiritsugu slid open the bedroom door without a sound. A barely audible hiss echoed through the room as two black keys materialized from their handles in his hands.

If those didn't suffice a simple wakizashi, the companion sword of a katana, slung through the back of his formfitting church uniform would be just as effective. Originally, he had balked at the idea of carrying another weapon on him. Hard experience had taught him that against the rouge magus that they were sometimes employed to hunt down, hard steel was far better than any mystic code.

He stepped into the oddly simple bedroom. Lavish carpeting and decoration were common place in the homes the church dispatched him to. Here they were absent, the four poster bed, while larger than the average king size, was also similarly lacking.

Two figures were slumped over the bed, breathing softly with the sounds of sleep.

He came closer. One of the figures moaned lightly and rolled in the sheets. No doubt a dream of some sort.

A black key through the sheets, and into the female's jugular vein was enough for the first one. For the man, as with all his targets, he would allow him to look him in the eyes the instant before he killed them. It kept him sane. It reminded him that his targets were human, not just animals to be disposed with at a whim.

That was one reason. Another was that he felt that when he descended to hell, his victims could recognize him, and then he could perhaps, account for the sins that he did in the name of a justice he didn't understand.

He lightly tapped the man on the shoulder.

The man's eyes flew open instantly. He clearly was not some run of the mill politician to have woken so quickly.

In fact, Jean Dion had served in the army for a number of years before his father died of a sudden bout of cancer. Then he had been urged by his peers and family to take up his father's path of politics.

Kiritsugu's hand shot out and redirected the bullet like punch sent at his head, sideways. His other hand shot out and clenched the bundle of nerves at the back of the neck that directed signals from the brain to the rest of the body.

The man struggled in protest before Kiritsugu produced a black key from his hand. The feeble thrashing stopped as the black metal materialized from the sword hilt. The blade gleamed ominously in the half light.

"What is your name?" He asked softly, loosening his grip to allow the man to answer.

"Jean Dion." He said finally.

"Jean, I am Emiya Kiritsugu." He paused. "I am going to kill you."

If the man was angry or shocked, he showed no sign of it. Instead a simply light of understanding and resignation shone in his eyes. That and a touch of irritation, of course he was going to kill him, what else did he expect from a mysterious, heavily armed man dressed in black? Tea?

He sighed lightly and said a little hopelessly, as he knew compassion wasn't in the vocabulary of well trained assassins.

"I have one last wish."

Kiritsugu paused, halting the black key he had positioned over the man's spinal cord. He had never gotten to this stage with the rest of his targets. They had often forced his hand often far before the conversation progressed to this point.

"I will honor it." He replied simply.

The man looked at him gratefully. "Thank you."

_I don't deserve your gratitude. _Kiritsugu thought, the black key in his right hand glinted lightly.

The man smiled, "On my desk, there is a letter addressed to my niece. Deliver it to her please and tell her I'm sorry."

Kiritsugu nodded.

The silence stretched a little longer.

Jean laughed slightly, "Of all the assassin's my opponents sent after me, I am glad that the one that finally ends me is the virtuous one."

A short rap at the door rang out. "Emiya, we have what we need. Finish up and meet us at the front when you're done cleaning up."

He felt sick. He took a deep breath. Was this what a hero did?

Jean looked at him tiredly. He looked out his window and at the full moon that cast a dim glow on the bedroom. "It's a beautiful moon tonight."

"It is." Kiritsugu agreed, and the black key in his right hand dug between the man's ribs and into his heart. The spray of blood coated his hand red. He slid the man's eyes closed before turning around and walking away.

On his way out, something caught his attention. There gleaming in the moonlight was a bouquet of white roses tenderly set into a vase with care.

A small blond haired girl flashed before his eyes, a grateful smile on her face.

He stopped for a moment, regarding the pristine petals, and left. The magic crest carved into his back, flared as he called from the library of spells at his disposal. A single spark jumped from his finger and crawled onto the hardwood floor.

A tiny flame flickered to life.

He left quietly.

* * *

Raven greeted him at the front door. "Good job Kiri. Is that the information we need?" He asked, gesturing to the plain white envelope in his breast pocket.

"It's nothing." Kiritsugu replied flatly, walking away.

"Nothing at all."

A young blond haired girl, named Danielle stooped and picked up the letter in her mail box. It was addressed to her, in her uncle's familiar flowing French script.

She opened the letter and smiled, it was an innocent thing remarking about the joys of the big city and his daily life as a politician. She smiled as she read one paragraph, so he had gotten the roses. She moved to tuck it into her coat pocket, eager to show her mother and father, before she caught a line at the very end of the letter.

It was written in perfectly straight script that held its own beauty, precise and minimalistic, but sharply contrasted with her uncle's flowing writing. There was a little quiver in the line, like the writer's hand had been shaking while he wrote it.

_I'm sorry. _

She looked at it confused, had her aunt written that? That would explain the change in hand writing, but she knew her aunt. Her aunt wrote in an elegant cursive. She shrugged and ran off, care free to her parents inside the house. It must have been a mistake she reasoned as she made her way toward the front door.

A black haired man, dressed in a formal church outfit slid out from behind a nearby tree trunk, watching the little girl run into the house.

"_One bouquet of roses I'm sure your uncle will enjoy."_

"_Thank you. Thank you so much!"_

He now had one more thing to add to his long list of regrets.

"I'm sorry." He whispered as the front door closed. "I'm so sorry."

He shouldn't feel like this. He was the machine that the church had created, the perfect melding of executor and magus. He had killed his emotions years ago didn't he? When he had with his own hands killed Shirley and his Father.

An image of Father Maxim and the kind old Doctor that had saved him flashed through his mind.

A dot of water dripped onto the pavement.

He looked tiredly up at the sky. The storm clouds were gathering, ready to unleash their contents on the earth below. He sighed, it was starting to rain, quickly he made his way back to the simple corolla that the church had given them, and he set off towards the plain hotel room they were staying at.

Behind him the heaven's wept and rain fell from the sky.

* * *

~ 1 month later ~

The event one month prior had quickly faded from most of their minds. It was after all, just a routine execution, they walked in, killed the target, picked up the required information, and left. That was their job. It was their "honor".

Did janitors remember every room that they cleaned? Of course not. So why would their job be any different?

They had quickly settled back into their usual routines, which often involved waking early in the morning and for Kiritsugu, sparring with Kirei.

They were in the midst of one such session now.

Kiritsugu parried another blow to the head and retaliated, sending his black key singing toward Kirei's head. Cling.

Another shriek of metal echoed as their black keys clashed again. It was a form of fighting that required immense concentration, to keep the grip on the black keys light, yet strong, and then combining that with the fundamentals of martial arts and then swordsmanship.

It was the church's pride and most deeply held secret.

The hand to hand black key fighting style had not changed in over 500 years. The church wanted to keep it that way.

The two separated with another burst of metal.

Then Kirei hurled all six of his black keys at once and lunged. He assumed the opening stance for Bai Quan as he hurtled through the air in tandem with his black keys. Kirei's usually empty brown eyes gleamed in anticipation.

It was over.

Kiritsugu immediately acted in response, sending one handful of black keys to knock three out of the air, while he drew the plain Japanese wakizashi from its sheath from his back. The shortened katana was at Kirei's throat as they met in a clash. Kirei halted his movement the instant the gleaming steel was at his throat.

Kiritsugu allowed himself a single moment of satisfaction. "I win." He said.

Kirei gave him a bemused look and tapped him lightly on the chest. His right arm was still free and extended.

Kiritsugu sighed, he knew what that meant. Kirei, being a master of bai quan would have easily been able to smash his chest open with his fist, his opening stance only adding to the momentum of the punch. The most likely outcome would have been his heart being crushed, and Kirei bleeding to death from a cut to his jugular.

Another tie.

He sighed and stepped backwards.

The assassination of an eminent politician the level of Jean Dion was not an event that was quickly forgotten. The French were in an uproar about the whole business, the church had decided to pull them out before things got messy. On the day they had left the airport, there were reports of riots on the streets.

They were now stationed in Russia. The freezing winters and frozen wastelands meant that the majority of people spent their time lounging in the house with the comforts of either electrical heating or the classic fire place. The relaxed atmosphere had Kiritusugu and Kirei on edge, it felt too much like the calm before the storm.

The church was similarly uneasy. The last time a messenger had brought their usual assignments, he had been noticeably on edge. From the reports that they had gathered, Kiritsugu was assuming something big was going on.

Large rich magus families that had normally spent the majority of their time in hiding, were now suddenly active, making extravagant purchases and mobilizing members of their family for a mutual gathering. In Japan, rumors were spreading, about demons infesting the land, and children stolen from their cribs.

Germany was curiously silent. Conversely, Great Britain was abuzz, the clock tower was humming with energy and the higher ups were apparently amassing forces. Some event was going to shake the Magus world. That was indisputable, the only problem as discovering what it was.

For Grace and Raven it was the perfect situation for some group bonding. Oblivious to the rising tensions to the east and west, they had gone to the nearest super market, grabbed some hot chocolate (in Grace's case, Vodka) and immediately hopped into a festive atmosphere. The snowy winter wonderland they were residing in, and the abundance of pine trees had lead Raven to loudly exclaim that it was Christmas.

"Hey, you two done yet?" Raven asked as he bounced into the room. "Grace is getting impatient."

Kiritsugu shrugged a month of being locked in a one story, 5 bedroom home had somewhat melted his usual stony attitude. "Kirei's going to murder him in whatever board game he wants to play this time." He said off handedly.

Raven smirked, "Not quite, were playing on my turf this time. Get ready to get your ass whopped in Monopoly."

Kiritsugu looked at Raven blankly, "Monopoly?"

Kirei smirked at Kiritsugu, "It's an American board game."

Kiritsugu rolled his eyes and made his way to the family room. Americans. They had found a stash of board games in one of the closets that the previous owner had left. Then, around the same time, a massive blizzard had dumped a foot of snow over night.

Needless to say, they had been playing board games for quite a while now.

They walked into the family room, where a gleeful Grace was setting out the game board for monopoly. Kiritsugu immediately noticed the large amounts of money being laid out in precise order. So it was a money game?

Grace smirked, "Get ready to get owned by yours truly." He said, hurrying them over to the game board. Kirei and Kiritsugu had got the gist of the game pretty easily. Bankrupt the other players of the game, all while buying properties to aid in bankrupting them. The last player with money won.

After a couple turns, it was clear who was dominant at the game. Kirei had one corner of the board controlled and was in the process of buying hotels for each of them. Grace was almost bankrupt and was on the brink of mortgaging his properties to survive another roll.

Raven, true to his word controlled most of the other properties. Although Kiritsugu had a suspicion that he was discreetly taking money from the bank without Grace's notice. There was no way he could continuously pay off a 500 hundred dollar fine for that long.

Kiritsugu had been bankrupted with in the first five turns. Apparently, sacrificing your most valuable properties wasn't the way to win. Outside, the wind began to gust harder than usual.

Kiritsugu looked up from his role as banker, after doling out five hundred dollars to Raven.

"Take my money, you selfish, loathsome, son of gun!" Grace pouted throwing over the rest of his cash with a puff. "Some friend you are." He grumbled.

Raven shrugged, "What can I say? I'm a boss at monopoly."

Raven grabbed another small hotel piece, "Hey Kiri, purchasing another hotel if you don't-"

It was the soft crunch of soles on freshly laid snow that caught their attention. No one in their right mind would be outside in this weather. Which could only mean one thing… assassin.

Kiritsugu and Kirei had gone stock still. They were like startled deer, ready to pounce, flee, or both at a moment's notice. Kiritsugu had pocketed the _Canterbury Tales _that he had been reading earlier and was producing a holy bible. Raven could see the handles of black keys poking out of the pages.

Kirei on the other hand had assumed the opening stance for Bai quan.

It took a while for Grace to catch on. "Goddamn Raven, I swear if it weren't for you and your hotels I'd be kicking Kirei's ass by-."

"Shut up." Raven hissed frantically, wishing for once that Grace wouldn't be such a blockhead and look around. Kiritsugu was slowly drawing one of the black handles from the bible.

"Don't tell me too-"

"Silence." Kirei snapped threateningly. It was horribly similar to one of the training exercises the church had done when they were still in training, while they were asleep, executors would come and sneak in, miming an actual assassination attempt. Those trainees that didn't wake up fast enough got extra conditioning and their lives if they were lucky. That was primarily the reason why no one could ever catch executors off guard.

Grace was silent.

Over the crackling of the fire, they could just barely hear footsteps crunching on the snow. The sound was very quiet, blending in perfectly with the sound of the howling wind, the falling snow, and the crackling of the fire.

Kiritsugu made his way quietly to the front door, waiting for the footsteps to stop. The crunching halted. He assumed they were either reaching to pick the lock of the door open, or break in forcefully. Whatever the case was, they were on the front porch. That was all he needed to know.

Fast as a snake, Kiritsugu wrenched open the front door and grabbed the first thing he saw and threw the sodden figure towards Kirei, where Kirei pounced on the bundle, grabbing a black key from the pages of the bible.

"That hurt you ASSHOLES!" The magenta haired woman snarled.

Kiritsugu sighed and lowered the black key in his hands, he knew only one person with that sort of voice. She was also, the only person who could ever get away with calling Kirei an asshole.

Kirei had apparently come to the same conclusion, letting the female to her feet. Bazett Mcfraga, proud bearer of the Fragarach, and one time colleague of Kotomine Kirei and Emiya Kiritsugu stared back. She looked well, Kiritsugu noted. The black suit that she was wearing was top quality and she had the pleasant scent of flowers clinging around her. The fact that she actually made enough money to afford such extravagances spoke volumes about how far she had gotten since they had last seen her.

"Bazett." Kirei acknowledged quietly.

Kiritsugu simply nodded and waited for the upcoming information that he knew was coming. There was no reason Bazett would make a trip to the heart of Russia in the winter unless it was urgent. The silence that descended upon the group was cloying. The three standing in the middle of the room, were stock still.

Grace, shrugged and downed a shot of vodka, "Monopoly anyone?", He asked, raising the pair of battered die. Hey, the new girl was pretty, and he was terrible with tense situations like these.

Stares.

"What?" He asked.

Another awkward pause.

Raven blanched, the new girl was going to maul Grace's face off. The very fact that she could get away with calling Kotomine Kirei, the man who could literally crush your heart with one punch, an asshole, spoke volumes about her skill or stupidity.

Bazett sighed and took the dice. "Why not?"

The tension in the room deflated like a balloon.

Bazett rolled. Two threes.

"Jail." She muttered as she read the card she drew, "Really?!" She snarled.

Raven smiled. Internally he was resigned to defeat. _I better not try to steal money from the bank now…. She probably isn't as nice as Kiri when it comes to dealing with cheaters…_

* * *

"Down to business." Bazett said seriously, as she locked gazes with both Kiritsugu and Kirei. Raven and Grace had nodded off and were now snoozing quietly on the couch. A discarded candy bar wrapper lay on the floor. Bazett took a sip from the mug of coffee she had brewed after they finished their game of monopoly. (Bazett won. Raven had proclaimed it "the biggest upset in his monopoly playing career".)

Both of them waited quietly.

"How much do you two know about the Einzberns?" She asked softly.

* * *

**AN: Uggh... you do not want to know how many drafts I went through trying to get this out. I don't know if this was good, if it was bad, honestly I'm just grateful to all those who left a review, your support has given me at least some drive to keep on writing when it literally felt like this chapter was refusing to be written. I did a quick time skip, because writing a whole chapter on young Kiritsugu is really difficult, you really don't get much on his charachter from the anime, but anyway, I hope you all liked the chapter!**

**Oh, leave a review to tell me if you liked it, if you hated it, etc. Or if there are any grammar mistakes, I have no beta... so yeah.**

**My thanks to all of you who are reading this story.**

**Until the next time,**

**Pen of Silver. **


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